me that you are angry with me.
I’m not angry, Pablito! I exclaimed.
That’s what your reason says, but not your body, he said.
Your body is angry. Your reason, however, finds no reason
to feel anger toward me, so you’re caught in a cross fire. The
least I can do for you is to untangle this. Your body is angry
because it knows that I am not impeccable and that only an
impeccable warrior can help you. Your body is angry because
it feels that I am wasting myself. It knew all that the minute I
walked through that door.
I did not know what to say. I felt a flood of post-fact realiza-
tions. Perhaps he was right in saying that my body knew all
that. At any rate, his directness in confronting me with my
feelings had blunted the edge of my frustration. I began to
wonder if Pablito was not just playing a game with me. I told
him that being so direct and bold he could not possibly be as
weak as he pictured himself to be.
My weakness is that I’m made to have longings, he said
almost in a whisper. I’m even to the point where I long for
my life as an ordinary man. Can you believe that?
You can’t be serious, Pablito! I exclaimed.
I am, he replied. I long for the grand privilege of walk-
ing the face of the earth as an ordinary man, without this
awesome burden.
I found his stand simply preposterous and caught myself
exclaiming over and over that he could not possibly be serious.
Pablito looked at me and sighed. I was overtaken by a sudden
apprehension. He seemed to be on the verge of tears. My ap-
prehension gave way to an intense feeling of empathy. Neither
of us could help each other.
La Gorda came back to the kitchen at that moment. Pab-
lito seemed to experience an instantaneous revitalization. He
jumped to his feet and stomped on the floor.
What the hell do you want? he yelled in a shrill, nervous
voice. Why are you snooping around?
La Gorda addressed me as if he did not exist. She politely
said that she was going to Soledad’s house.
What the hell do we care where you go? he yelled. You
can go to hell for that matter.
He stomped on the floor like a spoiled child while la Gorda
stood there laughing.
Let’s get out of this house. Maestro, he said loudly.
His sudden shift from sadness to anger fascinated me. I
became engrossed in watching him. One of the features that
I had always admired was his nimbleness; even when he
stomped his feet his movements had grace.
He suddenly reached across the table and nearly snatched
my writing pad away from me. He grabbed it with the thumb
and index finger of his left hand. I had to hold onto it with
both hands, using all my strength. There was such an extra-
ordinary force in his pull that if he had really wanted to take
it he could have easily jerked it away from my grip. He let go,
and as he retrieved his hand I saw a fleeting image of an ex-
tension to it. It happened so fast that I could have explained it
as a visual distortion on my part, a product of the jolt of hav-
ing to stand up halfway, drawn by the force of his pull. But I
had learned by then that I could neither behave with those
people in my accustomed manner, nor could I explain any-
thing in my accustomed manner, so I did not even try.
What’s that in your hand, Pablito? I asked.
He recoiled in surprise and hid his hand behind his back. He
had a blank expression and mumbled that he wanted us to
leave that house because he was becoming dizzy.
La Gorda began to laugh loudly and said that Pablito was
as good a deceiver as Josefina, maybe even better, and that if
I pressed him to tell me what was in his hand he would faint
and Nestor would have to tend to him for months.
Pablito began to choke. His face became almost purple. La
Gorda told him in a nonchalant tone to cut out the acting
because he had no audience; she was leaving and I did not have
much patience. She then turned to me and told me in a most
commanding tone to stay there and not go to the Genaros’
house.
Why in the hell not? Pablito yelled and jumped in front
of her as if trying to stop her from leaving. What gall! Tell-
ing the Maestro what to do!
We had a bout with the allies in your house last night, la
Gorda said to Pablito matter-of-factly. The Nagual and I are
still weak from that. If I were you, Pablito, I would put my
attention to work. Things have changed. Everything has
changed since he came.
La Gorda left through the front door. I became aware then
that indeed she looked very tired. Her shoes seemed too tight,
or perhaps she was so weak that her feet dragged a little bit.
She seemed small and frail.
I thought that I must have looked as tired. Since there were
no mirrors in their house, I had the urge to go outside and look
at myself in the side mirror of my car. I perhaps would have
done it but Pablito thwarted me. He asked me in the most
earnest tone not to believe a word of what she had said about
his being a deceiver. I told him not to worry about that.
You don’t like la Gorda at all, do you? I asked.
You can say that again, he replied with a fierce look. You
know better than anyone alive the kind of monsters those
women are. The Nagual told us that one day you were going
to come here just to fall into their trap. He begged us to be on
the alert and warn you about their designs. The Nagual said
that you had one out of four chances: If out power was high
we could bring you here ourselves and warn you and save
you; if our power was low we ourselves would arrive here just
in time to see your corpse; the third chance was to find you
either the slave to the witch Soledad or the slave of those dis-
gusting, mannish women; the fourth chance and the faintest
one of all was to find you alive and well.
The Nagual told us that in case you survived, you would
then be the Nagual and we should trust you because only you
could help us.
I’ll do anything for you, Pablito. You know that.
Not just for me. I’m not alone. The Witness and Benigno
are with me. We are together and you have to help all of us.
Of course, Pablito. That goes without saying.
People around here have never bothered us. Our problems
are with those ugly, mannish freaks. We don’t know what to
do with them. The Nagual gave us orders to stay around them
no matter what. He gave me a personal task but I’ve failed at
it. I was very happy before. You remember. Now I can’t seem
to manage my life anymore.
What happened, Pablito?
Those witches drove me from my house. They took over
and pushed me out like trash. I now live in Genaro’s house
with Nestor and Benigno. We even have to cook our own
meals. The Nagual knew that this might happen and gave la
Gorda the task of mediating between us and those three
bitches. But la Gorda is still what the Nagual used to call her,
Two Hundred and Twenty Buttocks. That was her nickname
for years and years, because she tipped the scales at two hun-
dred and twenty pounds.
Pablito chuckled at his recollection of la Gorda.
She was the fattest, smelliest slob you’d ever want to see,
he went on. Today she’s half her real size, but she’s still the
same fat, slow woman up there in her head, and she can’t do a
thing for us. But you’re here now. Maestro, and our worries
are over. Now we are four against four.
I wanted to interject a comment but he stopped me.
Let me finish what I have to say before that witch comes
back to throw me out, he said as he nervously looked at the
door.
I know that they have told you that the five of you are
the same because you are the Nagual’s children. That’s a lie!
You’re also like us, the Genaros, because Genaro also helped
to make your luminosity. You’re one of us too. See what I
mean? So, don’t you believe what they tell you. You also be-
long to us. The witches don’t know that the Nagual told us